


Disgruntled

by firecracker189



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Myc is just mentioned in this, Non-Sexual Age Play, caregiver!greg, little!john, little!sherlock, nsap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 16:23:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15976022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firecracker189/pseuds/firecracker189
Summary: I've wanted to do this for a while. Small vignette into the lives of little John and Lock before they're fully little.





	Disgruntled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RemyRemedial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemyRemedial/gifts).



> For the lovely RemyRemedial, a tiny piece of the Stag Do verse! I hope you like it! i know it's short, but it felt right to keep it short.

John likes to listen to music when he showers. He didn't used to, but then he found that being alone was sometimes not the best thing, so he put on music. He'd put the laptop on the counter top and play his playlist on shuffle while he cleaned up and relaxed a little. However, sometimes the music choice was a bit too spot on to his moods. This day in particular, he'd been feeling depressed all week, trying to fight against it, and not to mention having a case come to a close and being exhausted didn't help. John found his headspace wavering as he lathered up his hair.  _Eleanor Rigby_ had started playing, and it had him thinking, which wasn't a good thing. 'Lock would say it was  _never_ a good thing, but John knew he was smart. He waited for the song to end and turned off the water, drying off as the playlist moved on to happier songs. But for the rest of the day he couldn't get it out of his head. 

It was true. He always felt lonely. He wore a mask just like Eleanor Rigby did. But why? And for whom? He paced around the living room, around and around the sitting Sherlock who was tuning his violin and looking--unbeknownst to the pacing John-- more and more irritated by the moment. 

"John!" Sherlock snarled, bristling as he brushed past him for the tenth time. Several more circuits passed, and he realized John was deep inside his own head. Fine. He was being bloody annoying anyway, so Sherlock surely had license to retaliate. Upon the fourth repetition of John's name with no response, he decided drastic action was needed. Sherlock hurled his bow in John's direction as he passed the kitchen once more. 

"What the hell!?" John was murderous as he turned, snarling at Sherlock. "Can I help you, mate?" he clenched his fists and tried to breathe deeply and settle himself. If Mycroft or Greg were to show up and see him yelling or Sherlock throwing things at him, neither of them would sit right for a day. Maybe two. 

Sherlock tried his best to look innocent as he shrugged. "You were...thinking. It was annoying." 

"Yeah, well not as bloody damn annoying as you tossing bows at my head!" John rubbed the back of his head and scowled. 

"Sorry." Sherlock was most decidedly not apologetic, and John knew it. 

"Fuck off." John turned and headed for his room, exuding a cloud of black energy as he passed that had Sherlock slightly shrinking into the chair. 

Sherlock watched him go, tapping his fingers on his leg and occasionally shifting and giving an exasperated sigh. Mycroft had texted earlier in the day saying this was to be a non-negotiable 'little weekend' and that Greg would be along later for the both of them. Now it was simply a matter of waiting. And all of the sudden he was in nearly as foul a mood as John was. He glowered at the empty fireplace and propped his arms on his knees. That was how Greg found him an hour later, looking incredibly contemplative, as if the fireplace held more than just air. 

Greg cleared his throat loudly--he'd come right up the stairs and neither of the boys had noticed him yet, an unusual occurrence. It was especially unusual given the fact that they were both run into the ground at the end of a long case, and typically one or both of them were ready to give things up completely and let him take care of them. "Lock?" Greg asked, moving into the room. "What's so interesting about that fireplace?" he ruffled Lock's hair and the detective wilted a little, exhausted. 

"Nothin'," he mumbled, seeming a bit petulant beneath the tiredness. "John's angry. He snapped at me." 

"Oh, really?" Greg took off his gloves and set them aside as he shrugged out of his coat. "And what did he say?" 

Sherlock's eyes widened and he shook his head, pinching his lips together. "Said a naughty word. Pa would soap my mouth out," he squeaked, suddenly finding himself far younger very quickly. It was a bit disorienting. 

"Is that so?" Greg smiled, amused. "Well, why don't you wait right here for me and I'll go have a word with him, eh?" he tweaked Lock's nose and listened to the sweet giggle he got in return. 

"Mkay. I be good." Lock's curls flopped as he nodded happily, making a show of settling into the chair. 

"Okay, good boy." Greg winked at him. "Now to deal with that brother of yours." he mounted the stairs quickly. "John! Where've you got to, lad?" he made a show of wondering, though if he knew John he was holed up in his room, sulking. Lestrade pushed the door open and came face to face with a glowering John, sat on the edge of his bed with his arms crossed. "What's that for?" Greg shut the door behind him and he saw an unmistakable shift in John's posture--smart lad. He knew he was about to get punished if he didn't 'fess up. 

"Been thinking," he mumbled, frowning as he relaxed his posture a little. "Song came on when I was in the shower. Just. Been thinking about a lot of real heavy stuff today." he admitted, fidgeting with his fingers. 

Greg clucked softly and sat down beside him on the bed. "Like what?" he wouldn't press if John said no. 

"Depressed. Feel like I'm wearing a mask all the time and I'm lonely." 

"Oh. Well, you know you're not alone, love. Not that that helps you feel any better, but...as your Da I'm obligated to remind you," he gave a crooked smile and John laughed softly. "Come here." Greg opened his arms up and John curled against him, melting at the firm bear hug. "C'mon. Get yer stuff. We're going to the cottage for the weekend." 

"You're not mad at me for being mean to Lock?" he wondered, pulling away. 

"You oughtn't to have done that. But I understand why. Just let me know it won't happen again and you won't get punished." 

"Okay. Promise." he nodded so earnestly that Greg laughed again. It was just like Lock. 

"I'll pack a bag for Lock. You get your things." 


End file.
